Quotes About End

The resurrection of Christ marked the beginning of the End, the turning of the ages.

I stomp away from him. I refuse to spend my time with anybody who doesn't think this is the end of the world. If I have to listen to a guy putting a positive spin on this, my head is probably going to explode. At this moment, I want nothing but gloom, despair, negativity, and complaining.

The calendar appears in my mind, that magical date in June circled in gold Sharpie. Only 172 more school days to go.

In the twentieth century, science has been everything and the arts almost nothing by comparison. As a result, many artists now pretend to be scientists. They try to imitate the strategies of science. Paintings that talk. Sculpture that swims. Books that turn to ash. New formulas just like the scientist. But that isn't science of course, nor is it art. Just the end of the road.

Stay Longer and you will hear the beginning of your death

love had turned into love affair with a begining and an end.

You must promise me. You can't desire the end without desiring the means.' Ah, but one can, he thought, one can: one can desire the peace of victory without desiring the ravaged towns.

When I began to realize how often we quarrelled, how often I picked on her with nervous irritation, I became aware that our love was doomed: love had turned into a love-affair with a beginning and an end.

now when I'm writing it's already tomorrow and I'm afraid of getting to the end of yesterday. As long as I go on writing, yesterday is today and we are still together.

But if love had to die, I wanted it to die quickly. It was as though our love were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death: I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck.

If I were writing a novel I would end it here: a novel, I used to think, has to end somewhere, but I'm beginning to believe my realism has been at fault all these years, for nothing in life now ever seems to end. Chemists tell you matter is never completely destroyed, and mathematicians tell you that if you halve each pace in crossing a room, you will never reach the opposite wall, so what an optimist I would be if I thought that this story ended here.

I had come into this affair with my eyes open, knowing that one day this must end, and yet, when the sense of insecurity, the logical belief in the hopeless future descended like melancholia, I would badger her and badger her, as though I wanted to bring the future in now at the door, an unwanted and premature guest.

Perhaps all life was like that--dull and then a heroic flurry at the end.

If I were writing a novel I would end it here: a novel, I used to think, has to end somewhere, but I'm beginning to believe my realism has been at fault all these years, for nothing in life now ever seems to end. Chemists tell you matter is never completely destroyed, and mathematicians tell you that if you halve each pace in crossing a room, you will never reach the opposite wall, so what an optimist I would be if I thought that this story ended here.

Didn't he posses in the end the winning cards - the cars of gentleness, humility and trust.

I maintain that it is a very odd place to look. What that's called is a singularity, and many theories require a singularity. That means to kick start the intellectual engine you have to go outside the system, and you get one free hypothesis and then once you have used that up your system has to run very very smoothly clear down to the end.

So ended the days of the last dinosaur circus.

Work, fight, live. All the sweeter. Mind after mind will shape and absorb. In the end, all will be quiet with wisdom.

Every life, every love, every action and feeling and thought has its reason and significance: its beginning, and the part it plays in the end.

Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope. Sometimes we cry with everything except tears. In the end that's all there is: love and its duty, sorrow and its truth. In the end that's all we have—to hold on tight until the dawn.

Everyone dies. It's a question of where and how, that's all.

Some directors can become concerned when it comes to music, because it's the end of the process and they're tired. They're worried that the music will intrude or waste something, that a composer will overwhelm the story.

Very often at the end of 'The Sopranos' you get the feeling that its not under control, you should be very worried, and life is kind of really, really messed up at lot of times. It leaves you feeling very disconcerted. That was kind of the point of it.

Once you're dead, your worries are over.